


What I Would Do For You

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e06 A Fractured House, Season 2, There is no Real Shield, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz is kidnapped and tortured to enact a man's revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What We've Become

**Author's Note:**

> The world needs more Fitz angst, so here we go! Sorry about the summary. I swear the story is better!

     "Something's happening!" Jemma Simmons had been waiting by Director Coulson's computer screen for a while. The live stream Coulson had received over an hour ago had shone an empty room. There had been no signs of change, but she hadn't left her post for one minute.

     Footsteps could be heard thudding along the hall outside, but a man appeared on the screen before they arrived. His face was painful to gaze upon.

     "Hello," A gravely voice rose through the speakers as Coulson and Skye flew through the door.

     "What's up?" Skye questioned, rushing to Simmons's side.

     "I don't know." Simmons mumbled, worried eyes glued to the screen.

     "You there?" The man tapped the camera lens, smirking. Simmons heart thumped violently, her guts twisting in fear. They could only assume the worst. "I'm sure you are." He continued, stepping back.

     He stood in a dark room. The walls and floor were all cement and the only light source was a small window beyond the camera's view. They only assumed it was a window, because the light was to natural to be anything else. A lonesome chair was placed in the center of the room. It was metal, and Simmons imagined how cold it must be to the touch.

     "In hopes that your all present, I think I should introduce myself. My name is Joe Harper. I bet that rings a few bells." He gave a disturbing wink. Simmons shivered.

     "What does he mean?" Skye glanced at Coulson.

     "Sh." He scolded, but his eyes were clouded with painful memories.

     "I mean, who doesn't love a plot twist? I know, it is cliche, but exciting, none the less. The supposedly dead villain returns for revenge." Both girls shift their confused stares to the Director, but they remained silent. "I'm not mad that you tried to kill me. Truthfully, it tickles me; I'm touched. I'm mad that you destroyed _her_! I want S.H.I.E.L.D to pay for what they did to my little girl and I'm going to do that by destroying one of _yours_."

     Simmons sucked in a sharp breath of air. They had been right. They're fears were coming true.

     "Let's welcome our guest of honor!" Two men burst through the door with a stumbling figures between them. The figure was hooded, but the three recognized him immediately.

     "Leo Fitz, welcome!" Joe greeted him as he was tossed into the lonely chair, restrained, the hood was removed, and the two men exited the room. "Mind if I call you Leo?" Fitz failed to reply, blinking rapidly to recover his wits. "Okay, fine. You'll talk later."

     Simmons noticed Fitz swallow hard. Her lip trembled as he did a double take towards the camera.

     "That's right." Joe smiled from Fitz to the camera, waving. "Say hello to your friends."

     "They're... Um... They're watching?" Fitz stuttered, accent thick with the fear he was unable to manage. "I sent them the stream, but I doubt they'll watch." Joe replied, pouting as if he was speaking to a child.

     "I'm not... You don't..."

     "Ah, Leo, what's wrong?" Joe interrupted. "Having trouble with your words?" Fitz's mouth snapped shut. He glared into the man's cold eyes, gritting his teeth.

     Simmons gnawed her lip. How could some one be so cruel? Could he not see that Fitz was hurt enough? His friend had recently betrayed him, attempted to kill him, and he'd not escaped that experience unscathed. He didn't need this new stress. He needed time to recover.

     "What is he doing?" Skye cried, alarmed. Simmons's attention was drawn back to the screen.

     Joe stood before the camera, sharpening a butcher's knife. Fitz sat silently behind him, glaring.

     "You really shouldn't blame yourself, Phil. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. There _is_ nothing you can do. Nothing but watch." He stalked towards Fitz, who tensed as he approached. "The truth is, you have no one to blame but _yourself_ , Leo. I would have been willing to take _any_ Agent for my revenge, but _you_ , clutzy, foolish, stupid _you_ stumbled right in my path. I'll be surprised if they even notice. I doubt they even care."

     Coulson growled. Of course they cared! They minute they'd noticed Fitz's absence last night, Coulson had sent a message to all his Agents to keep an eye open. Agents May, Morse, Triplett, and Hunter were all out there searching for him at that very moment. Mack was tinkering in the garage to distract himself, and the girls... Well.

     Simmons chewed her lip nervously; tears already slipping from her eyes. Skye grasped a fistful of her hair, tugging mercilessly.

     "You're wrong." Fitz voice was low; lacking confidence. Joe's word were already playing with his jumbled mind.

     "Is that so?" Joe circles him like prey, twirling the glistening knife. Fitz's eyes followed him the best they could. "Unrequited love is a knife to the gut, my friend." Fitz froze, muscles tensing as he stared blankly ahead of him. His shoulder twitched. "Yes, I know all about you, Leo. I know everything. I know what happened on the ocean floor. I know about your confession. I know how you got to be the way you are, so... Damaged."

     Fitz yelped as his hair was gripped tight, forcing his head back and exposing his neck. The cool blade of the knife was placed against his fragile skin. His chest moved at an alarming quick pace as he breathing hitched.

     Simmons squeezed her eyes shut as Skye cried out. Coulson's hands, which hung limply by his side, balled up.

     Fitz eyes shut tightly. They noticed his body tremor even through the screen.

     "Don't worry, Leo. I'm not gonna kill you." Joe let the knife slip away from Fitz's neck. "Not yet, anyway, but I reckon you don't need your eyes." He placed the sharp tip precariously on the corner of Fitz's eye. Fitz dare not blink for fear of the knife slipping. He just stared at the shimmering blade.

     "Don't!" Fitz weak voice surprised the man. He grinned.

     "What?"

     "Please... Please don't." Fitz whimpered. A moment of unsettling silence passed before Joe removed the knife with a laugh.

     "Though that was entertaining," He nicked Fitz just above the eyebrow," that is for speaking up." He released Fitz hair, tossing the knife out of the camera's range. It landed with a clatter. Simmons noticed Fitz jump at the noise, though his head still hung low; chin resting on his chest.

xXxXx

     Fitz attempted to slow his breathing. He needed to evaluate his situation. He never was any good at that. He wasn't a field agent. He missed his lab. His old lab. The lab on the bus. Their lab. That was before things changed. Before he changed.

     "You know, we really should get into the more fun things." The man towered above him. "Leo?" He tapped Fitz's lowered face. "You're not tired already, are you?" He grasped Fitz's hair once more, forcing him to make eye contact.

     Blood was drizzling down his temple and over his brow, seeping into his eyes. He felt a rough thumb brisk over his face, clearing away the sticky liquid. The soft touch disgusted him.

     "We're just getting started, Leo."


	2. What We Don't Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everybody for reading!

     Coulson demanded the girls leave once the first punch was thrown. They'd argued, but he would not have it. Skye stormed out angerily, but Jemma trudged to the door. She paused as Fitz's shout echoed through the speakers.

     "I'll stay with him." Coulson softly assured. She nodded. It was a small comfort, but a comfort all the same.

     She stepped into the hall. The door clicked shut, separating her from her friend's cries. She was left in silence.

xXxXx

     Mack's head shot up as Skye stomped past. "Whoa, there. Hold up." He grabbed the greasy rag hanging from his pocket and rubbed his hands. "What's got you so fed up?"

     " _Coulson_." Skye spat as she continued on her way. "I'm need to punch something." He heard her murmur as she left the room. He shook his head after her.

     "Get anything on that stream of Coulson's?" Mack spun to where Melinda May entered on the opposite side of the room.

     "Yeah, they got something. I haven't been in to see it, but it got Skye pretty angry. You find anything?"

     "Nope." May brushed past him, exiting through the door Skye entered. Mack sighed, shrugging.

xXxXx

     Lance Hunter and Bobbi Morse entered the compound minutes before Antoine Triplett.

     Mack slouched under the hood of the giant SUV while the two lounged against a nearby workbench. They all stared at him when he enter.

     "Find anything?" Hunter's voice cut through the silence. Trip shook his head, frowning. "Same here." Hunter agreed. He pushed away from the bench. "I need a beer." He left the three in silence.

     "Has anything happened here?" Trip turned to Mack.

     "Something came up on the feed, but I haven't seen it. Director Coulson's still in there. Agent May, too."

     Trip nodded. "Every one else?"

     "Skye's abusing the punching bag, and Simmons is sitting outside the Director's door." Bobbi answered.

     "Thanks." Trip nodded, striding out of the room, hurriedly.

     He found Simmons slumped against the wall next to Coulson's office. She hugged her knees to her chest, head resting on her arms.

     "Hey." He greeted, sliding down next to her. She peeked up at him, eyes red and puffy. She parted her lips to answer, but was cut of by a blood chilling scream from the office behind them.

     Simmons let out a sob, throwing her hand over her mouth. Tears cascaded from her eyes. Trip jumped to his feet, taking her hand. "C'mon. You don't need to hear this." He lead her away, his arm over her shoulders and her face against his chest.

     The screams followed the down the hall.

xXxXx

     "Did you-" May interrupted his thoughts.

     "Yes." He cut in. "We've done everything. No one could track the feed; nothing. I shouldn't have let this happen."

     "Let this happen?" May's voice, calm as always, was dangerous. "You did not let anything happen. You can't keep track of everything, Phil. Somethings aren't up to you."

     "Fitz is my agent!" Coulson argued. "He hasn't had enough time to recover from the incident with Ward. I should have protected him."

     "We can't change the past, Phil. We need to focus." May's leaned over Coulson's desk, snapping him out of his daze.

     "You're right." He turned back to the screen, eyes darting for any clues he might have missed earlier.

     Fitz's face was painted an ugly mixture of blues, black, greens. His left eye was swelling and blood seeped from his nose. Joe had left for a dragging fifteen minutes. Fitz watched him go, breathing heavily. 

     Coulson was proud of the kid's bravery, but he knew that Fitz was suffering. Fitz belonged in the lab. He wouldn't be able to handle the pain.

     The sound of a groaning door, caused Fitz to raise his head. His eyes widened. He pressed himself against the back of the chair; a desperate attempt to shrink away. Coulson's heart began to race. He was barely aware of May leaning over his shoulder.

     Joe appeared in front of the cowering figure. He held an iron rod in his hand, the end glowing; radiating heat. Fitz buried his face into his shoulder, whimpering.

     "Please," his voice was raspy, weak. "Please don't."

     Coulson's fists clenched at the sound. Those had been the only words spoken by the young agent ever since the beatings started.

     Joe knelt beside Fitz, lips hovering next to his ear. He whispered something, smirking, before drawing back. Fitz terrified eyes started directly at them through the screen. Coulson hated the fear the festered within the stare.

xXxXx

     "Please don't." Fitz pleaded. He heard rustling as Joe knelt beside him. He felt the man's warm breath on his neck.

     "You're so weak. I wonder what they think of your begging."

     Fitz had forgotten the camera. He'd forgotten that his team might be watching. He'd forgotten everything but the pain, but, now, his eyes lifted to the camera lens.

     Guilt twisted in his gut. He should be more like them. He should be brave, and take the pain without a flinch. He didn't want them to blame themselves, so he straightened in the chair, chin held high.

     "That's better." Joe grinned.

     Fitz swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut as his teeth clamped down on his lip, but, as the searing pain shot through his arm, he was unable to contain his scream. He hated himself for it.

     The rod was lifted, but the pain remained. At least the dancing, white specks began to fade from his eyesight. His breaths were choppy and his skin glistened with sweat. His muscles twitched, uncontrollably.

     "Aw, Leo." Joe groaned. "How disappointing!" He toyed with the rod. Fitz shivered. "Should we try again?"

     "No." Fitz moaned. "Please-" He screamed once more. The specks were back along with the pain. He writhed in the chair, twisting and straining. It was gone.

     "Really?" Joe frowned. "I think we should try again. I think we should keep going until you can hold back those pathetic cries. Don't you agree?" Fitz shook his head. He opened his mouth to argue, but his head was snapped to the side. The thudding inside his head began again. "Don't you agree?" Joe repeated. Once more, Fitz shook his head. Another blow.

     "Okay! I... I agree." Fitz surrendered. He slumped in defeat. "I agree."

     "That's the spirit." Joe clapped him on the shoulder. "I've got a surprise for you, if you succeed."

     It took a few tries, but Fitz managed to keep the screams in.

     Joe tossed the rod aside. "Impressive. I thought we'd be here for a while." Joe continued speaking, but Fitz focused on steadying his breathing, focusing his eyes, and clearing his mind. "You have five minutes."

     Fitz glanced up as Joe left the room. A five minute rest. He sighed. Not nearly long enough.

     A ringing slashed through his peaceful quiet. He looked around. On the table across from him was a ringing phone.

xXxXx

     Coulson had never loved the ringing of a telephone more. It had barely sounded before it was up to his ear. "Fitz?"

     He heard the echo of his voice through the speakers of the computer. He watched as Fitz, sighed, relieved.

     "Director Coulson?" Fitz gaze darted from the phone to the camera. His brows furrowed. "Can... Can you see me?"

     "Yes, Fitz. We can see you. Do you-"

     "Is... Um... Is Jemma there?" Fitz's desperate voice cut in.

     "No, she's not."

     "Good." Fitz nodded, but Coulson noticed the longing in his gaze. "I don't want her to... Um..." His face scrunched in concentration, and he threw his head back. "To.. See me. Like this."

     "Fitz, where are you?" Coulson's chest tightened. He didn't want to put the pressure on Fitz, but they had to find him.

     Fitz searched the room. Nothing.

     "Um... I don't... I'm not... I don't know."

     "It's okay, Fitz. You need to calm down." Fitz shut his eyes, focusing on his breathing.

     "It's... Um... I don't know. I don't know how I got here." There was a pause. "Is... Um... Who's there?" His gaze returned to the camera.

     "It just me, Fitz. Me and May."

xXxXx

     Fitz nodded. He was glad that he friends weren't watching, but he yearned for them. "Will you... Can I talk to Simmons?"

     "Are you sure, Fitz?" The sound from the phone wasn't the most clear, but he understood. He wished he could see them, too, instead of them watching him.

     "Please, I just... I want to talk. I want to hear her... Her voice."  

     "Okay." Coulson's delayed response buzzed through the speaker. "Hold on."

xXxXx

     Simmons rushed to Coulson's office, May jogging beside her to keep up. She burst through the door, ripping the phone from Coulson's hand. "Fitz?"

She stared at the screen, gasping. "Oh, Fitz! What did he do to you?"

     Coulson silently left the room, followed by May. He knew how uncomfortable they were when they where alone, but he would not invade there privacy. Though Simmons did not return Fitz's feelings, she still cared about him.

     "It's... It's nothing really, Jemma." He attempted to turn his face away, but the burns on his arms were still visible. "I'm... I'm fine."

xXxXx

     "Fitz, where are you?" Simmons's voice crackled through the speaker. It comforted him. A sob caught in his throat.

     "I don't... I don't know!" His shoulders shook as he bit back tears.

     "It's okay to cry, Fitz. It gonna be okay. We'll find you. We're going to-" The door flew open, and Joe marched towards the phone. Fitz squirmed in his restraints. His heart thumped violently, guts twisting in hopelessness.

     "No! Jemma! Jemma!" He called out.

     "Fitz, it's okay! You're going to be-" The line died. Fitz head hung low. He allowed the tears to slide from his eyes. Her name died on his lips.

     "Please, let me go."

xXxXx

     Simmons began to panic when Joe entered the room. She continued to speak encouraging words, but there was a click and the connection broke. The phone slipped from her hand as she dropped into Coulson's chair.

     She knew he was trying to act strong for her, but the tremor of his shoulders was undeniable. She heard the faintest sounds of his hitched breaths. "Oh, Fitz." She whimpered, resting a gentle hand on the screen. She lowered her head onto the desk, weeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really liking the way this one turned out, but I hope you enjoyed. In a sick, twisted way.


	3. Where Are You Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long with this one. I have another one all written and ready to go, so I'll try to get that one up tomorrow. In the meantime... Enjoy! (And comment)

     Coulson had waited for a while. He wanted Simmons to have enough time to talk with Fitz, but he didn't want her to be there for whatever happened next.

     He knocked, politely, on the office door. No reply. He tried again. "Simmons?" Silence. Twisting the knob, he slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

      She'd fallen asleep at his desk. Her forehead rested on her right arm and the fingertips of her left hand brushed the computer screen. The phone lay at her feet. Coulson's attention turned to the other agent.

     The chair had disappeared and in its place hung Fitz. His arms stretched above his head and his toes searched frantically for the floor, brushing against the rough surface. Coulson picked up the phone, redialing the number. He heard the ringing in the other room, and Fitz's struggles ceased for a moment.

     "Jemma?" Fitz whispered. He twisted, but all he managed to accomplish was more strain on his suspended wrists. The ringing died, and Fitz stared, hopelessly, at the phone. He breathed heavily, glancing at the camera with glistening eyes. "Please don't watch this, Jemma."

     Coulson nodded. If that was what he wanted, that is what would happen. He had May call Trip in, and Trip scooped her up. She hung, limply, in his arms, peaceful. "Don't wake her."

     "Of course." Trip nodded. He headed back out the door, but not before he snuck a glimpse at Fitz. The sight sickened him, and he hurried away, Simmons sleeping in his arms.

     None of them got much sleep that night. Some more than others; some not at all.

xXxXx

     Skye tiptoed to Coulson's office, cracking the door, and peeking in. Coulson had fallen asleep at his desk. May had left a few hours ago. Who knew where she went to cool off.

     Skye slipped in, silently shutting the door. She warned herself against looking at the screen, but, being the curious girl she was, her warning went unheeded. She inhaled a sharp breath.

     Fitz squirmed agains the binds. His feet barely supported his suspended body. His breathing was frantic with tears. He cried openly, and it tore Skye's heart. "Fitz?" She whispered. The scene before her didn't change. "Please hold on."

xXxXx

     Coulson woke in his chair, but not at his desk. His brows furrowed as he glanced around in confusion. He was in the hallway. Why was he in the hallway? He twisted towards his office door, realization hitting him.

     "Skye, if you-" He jumped from his chair, and pulled at the knob. He rapped on the door. "Skye, let me in." He tried to keep his voice level.

     "Only if you'll let me stay." Came the muffled reply.

     "Skye, don't be a child. You shouldn't be in there! You don't need to see that!" Coulson yelled.

     "Yes, I do! I can't help him, but I need to be with him. We can't abandon him now! He needs us! I have to be here to help him get through this."

     "Skye, we are not abandoning him. We're-"

     "Well, we're not helping him either!"

     "Skye, please." He waited, but the door eventually clicked open. Skye's frowning face meet him there. He stepped inside, pulling her against him. "We're going to find him, Skye. He'll be fine."

     She sniffed, nodding. "Okay. Just-"

     "How are we doing, Leo?" They both hurried to the computer at the sound of Joe's voice.

     "I've really... Um... Appreciated the hospitality, but I... Uh... I am tired, and I should be... Be getting home now."

     "Sarcasm. I'm flattered." Joe replied. "Should leave you hanging around more often." Fitz's mask fell, revealing the fear hidden there. "Ah, never mind." Joe smirked. "I have better plans." Joe focused on the camera. "Don't worry. You'll be able to watch."

     He moved closer to Fitz, who shied away, and uncovered a glistening knife from his jacket. He swung; Fitz tensed. The rope snapped and Fitz crumpled to the cold floor with a quiet yelp. "I'll let you have a breather, but I'll be back soon." Joe twirled the knife in his hands as he left the room.

     Fitz panted, pushing himself up. His eyes searched frantically around the room. He crawled out of their view, both Coulson and Skye leaning forward. "Course." Fitz's voice rose and Coulson mumbled under his breath. Skye jumped, grabbing for the phone. "Skye, what are you doing?"

     "We have to try." Skye uttered.

xXxXx

      Fitz jumped as the phone began to ring. He scolded himself for forgetting its presence as he scurried for it. "Director?" He whispered, fearing Joe's return.

     "Fitz! Fitz, are you okay?" The concerned cry echoed in his ear.

     "Skye? Where's Coulson?"

     "He's here, Fitz. He's right here. Hold on a minute." Something beeped. "You're on speaker, Fitz."

     "Good... Um... Yeah, Good. Director, I-"

     "Fitz, we need to know where you are." Coulson's calm voice interrupted.

     "Yeah... Yeah, hold on." Fitz steadily made his way to the window. He hoisted himself up, gazing out. "It's... There's... Um... There are trees. Lots of trees. A... A, um..."

     "A garden? A lake?" Skye's eager voice rose.

     "No. There's a car! In the... In the driveway."

     "What is it?" Coulson insisted.

     "Um... I don't know. I don't know. I can't... I can't see. I can't... I'm sorry."

     "Fitz, you need to focus. You need to calm down and focus." Coulson persisted. Fitz swallowed nodding.

     "The license plate. I can read... The... The license plate."

     "Good. Fitz, what-"

     "What does it say?" Skye eagerly spoke up.

     "391 VRV."

     "Skye, find that vehicle." Fitz heard Coulson instruct. "Fitz, is there more you can-"

     "What are you doing?" Fitz spun, dropping the phone. Joe stood in the doorway, fury wrinkling his face.

     "Fitz? Fitz, are you still there?" Coulson's voice still could be heard through the speaker. "I can't see you, Fitz. Step back into the camera's veiw, Fitz!" Joe advanced, Fitz sinking against the wall.

xXxXx

     Coulson's grip on the phone tightened when Joe entered the camera's range from one side of the room and crossed to the other, disappearing.

     "Wait... Wait, no. It's not... It's not what you think." He heard Fitz through both the phone and the computer.

     "Really? Cause that's exactly what it looks like!" There was a sickening thud and a groan. "I'll teach you a lesson you won't be forgetting anytime soon."


	4. What Will Be Left of You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.

xXxx     "Got a match for the plates!" Skye shouted, rushing back to Coulson's office.

     "Good!" Coulson replied, eyes ripping, reluctantly, away from the screen.

     "I'll be right out." She nodded, hurrying away from Fitz's groans.

     "It's a 2013 Honda Civic." Skye announced when Coulson found her lounging on the couch. "It belongs to a woman named Amanda Price from Nebraska. She was on her way to visit family in Quebec When it went missing. It's still in Nebraska, I'd assume. That's where it was last spotted. Do you think Joe stole it?"

     "Probably." Coulson agreed. "We're headed to Quebec, then.

xXxXx

      "I had other plans, but we're going to have to speed this along." Joe frowned at Fitz's doubled over figure. "I'll be back." He snatched the phone from the floor and stomped out.

     Fitz clutched his throbbing hand to his chest. The stub of his once thumb bleed profusely, staining his clothes and spreading over his hands and all around him.

     His hand hurt. His head hurt. His ribs hurts. Everything hurt.

     He sobbed, crawling to the corner of the room. He glanced at the camera. They'd want to make sure he was okay. They'd want to see him, but he couldn't bear the thought of them witnessing his mutilated hand. He offered them a weak, verbal confirmation. "I'm... I'm okay." He whispered. "I'm okay." The black specks dancing across his vision swallowed the room before him, and the pain threw him into unconsciousness.

xXxXx

     "Leo? Leo, wake up." Fitz's shoulders were gripped tight and shaken. His started awake. He was back in the cold chair. Joe leaned before him, disgustingly close. His breath smelt of cigarettes.

     Fitz glanced down at his hand. Joe had wrapped a cloth around the bleeding stump, but it's dark green material was already soaking through with thick blood. Fitz's breath quickened at the sight.

     "Don't be afraid, Leo. The pain will be over soon. I can only imagine they're faces when they come to your rescue, so proud of your endurance, only to find that they were to late; that I had put a bullet through your head." He drew a pistol. Fitz flinched. "Don't worry. I'm not going to shoot you just yet." He backed towards the door. "You have thirty minutes to write your goodbyes. No more phone calls."

     He was gone, leaving Fitz alone. He noticed the stack of papers and single pen across the room. So far, yet he had to get to it. He sucked in a breath before shoving himself from the chair with a yelp.

xXxXx

     Phil tapped his fingers impatiently. The jet couldn't have flown fast enough to satisfy him. Or any of the others, on that note.

     Skye tapped her foot. Trip frowned, but was otherwise still. May stared intently on the skies before her. Bobbi stood with crossed arms and a wide stance, but she masked every emotion. Simmons bowed her head, hands folded in her lap. Phil wasn't sure if she was the praying type, but nothing seemed to be stopping her now.

     He hadn't even tried to stop Skye and Simmons when they'd marched determinedly onto the ramp. They were both pale with worry, but their faces displayed a stoic expression. They'd find Fitz, and, whatever the circumstances, they'd get through this.

xXxXx

     "All done?" Joe ambled into the room. Fitz jumped, gripping the pen tighter. He nodded, though it was a lie. Folding the last paper, he tucked it into his shirt pocket with the others. "Good. We can get started. Or, more like, we can end this."

     "No. Wait. Wait." Fitz pleaded as Joe drew the pistol once more. "Please, don't. Just... Just wait!"

     "For what? For you to be rescued? I'm not going to make that mistake?" He raised the barrel, resting it against Fitz's forehead. Fitz, frozen in fear, trembled in his seat. He gripped the arms of the chair with white knuckles and eyes squinted shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so short (and about the ending).


End file.
